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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26031439">One of Us is Crying</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/skylark3/pseuds/skylark3'>skylark3</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Holby City</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:36:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,303</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26031439</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/skylark3/pseuds/skylark3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the day of Essie's funeral and her family and friends gather to say goodbye to her.  It was always going to be an emotional day for Henrik, another loss to face after so many losses over the last few years but with his new found friend Carole by his side he is confident he will get through it.  But the shock of seeing an unexpected face from the past threatens to derail him and jeopardise the stability he has recently gained.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carole Copeland/Henrik Hanssen, Henrik Hanssen/Roxanna MacMillan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title stolen from the ABBA song of course!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was a shock when he first saw her. A physical shock jolting his body backwards and making his jaw gape open. If it hadn't been for the pew hitting the back of his legs and shaking him back to the moment, he was sure he would have fallen over. He felt Carole Copeland's hand rest on his arm in an attempt to steady him. Pulling himself together, he closed his mouth and looked down into her kind, concerned face and gave her a grateful smile. No doubt she thought it was the sight of the coffin being carried down the aisle that had perturbed him, but it wasn't that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the coffin was settled down, and the track playing on the sound system came to a satisfactory ending the officiant gave word for the mourners to be seated and the celebration of the life of Essie Harrison began. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henrik felt the welcome support of the wooden seat beneath him after his initial shock but despite his best efforts to calm himself his heart continued to beat ten to the dozen as adrenaline surged through his veins. He forced himself to focus on the words of the the sermon; </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>it was a life devoted to the needs of others, both in her chosen profession as a nurse but also in the care and attention she lovingly bestowed upon her family and friends. For Essie, the needs of others always came first." </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was impossible for him to remain focused for long though, for he could not take his eyes off the elusive figure seated beside the grieving widower four rows in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To the untrained eye she would have been unrecognisable; her hair was longer, almost shoulder length and a few shades darker, but to someone who had spent almost every moment whilst in her presence studying her moves, her mannerisms, memorising every curve and every wrinkle it was unmistakable. Those slim nibble fingers he had always admired so much, both in a professional and private capacity were now splayed out on Sacha's hunched back; a good friend offering him much needed comfort in his hour of need.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was definitely her. The woman he had waited for his entire life; the woman he had nursed back to health after their mutual friend had attempted to murder her;  the woman with whom he had finally managed to share his feelings with; the woman he had spent one blissful night of passion with just over two years ago, during which she had confessed her own long held feelings for him.  The same woman who had resigned from her job and left the country the next day and had not made contact with him since. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh yes, there was no mistaking it, that was Roxanna Macmillan sitting in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>****</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you alright now Henrik?" It was the other woman in his life.  The kind, the sweet dependable person he never thought he needed, but, to his own astonishment, he was spending an unfathomable amount of time with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carole Copeland had done something most women could never achieve, she had cracked his shell. She had made him do things, like salsa dancing, that were outside of his comfort zone. With Carole there was no need for the mask, no need to uphold the glittering image. With Carole he could be himself and it didn't matter if </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> Henrik was a little bit quirky or a little bit eccentric. It was okay because there was one thing he didn't need to do with Carole: he didn't need to impress her. It wasn't that kind of relationship. She accepted him for what he was, and he accepted her for what she was. They say opposites attract and in this case, there was no truer word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hmm?" He turned to look at his companion. They were standing outside the crematorium now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You seemed a bit shook up inside when they brought the coffin in? It's so tragic, I know," she sniffed, seeking out a fresh tissue from her handbag. "When I saw my Dominic carrying that poor girl's coffin, I just couldn't keep it together. It's setting me off now…." Her voice quivered as tears pooled in her already red eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henrik rested a hand on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze,"yes, it is  tragic," he agreed. He hoped he sounded genuine because he meant to be but his mind was elsewhere, and his eyes were fixed on the door of the building. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I just can't stop thinking about Sacha and that poor child. Imagine losing your birth mother, then to go and lose your adoptive mother too. She was referring to Isla, the child Essie had not long adopted. "Makes me think of what could have happened to my Dominic if….." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could hear her voice but the words were lost on him, for at that moment Roxanna stepped out from the shadows of the building into the bright early autumn sunshine. He watched as she attempted to tuck her hair behind her ears as it swished around her face in the light breeze. She looked impeccable in a black pencil skirt that fitted neatly around her shapely hips and a knee length black trench coat set off by a brightly coloured chiffon scarf which was nonchalantly wrapped around her neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was granted a few uninterrupted moments to observe her before she glanced over in his direction and for a brief moment there eyes locked. Even from fifty feet away the brightness of her eyes struck him. A brief acknowledgement of him seemed to flicker across her face, even a small intake of breath but then her attention was taken by Fletch who appeared at her side and was saying something to her.  He watched on as she listened intently and nodded her head in supposed agreement and then she disappeared from his view. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mr Hanssen…..?" he heard his name and spun on his heels to find Dom beside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hmm?" He gasped, unaware of what he had missed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I was asking if you were okay to drive Carole to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Albie's</span>
  </em>
  <span> for the wake? I'm in the car with Sacha. If not, I can ask someone else?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henrik glanced over at an expectant looking Carole,  "Yes of course," he said, re-establishing his composure. "I thought that was the plan anyway?" He gave Carole a reassuring smile and she smiled back, a slight blush in her cheeks evident. He felt his own cheeks blush in response before offering her his arm and chaperoning her towards the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>****</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Roxanna…? Are you okay? The car is waiting to leave…" it was Fletch, his head awkwardly craning around the door of the ladies toilets of the crematorium. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes….I'm just coming…." She shouted through the cubicle door which she was currently leaning up against. She had mentally prepared herself for today, for saying goodbye to Essie and for seeing Henrik again but she had underestimated the impact it would have upon her, especially the latter. She had felt his dark eyes piercing her own, but from that far away it was impossible to decipher his thoughts or feelings but she was kidding herself if she thought it would be anything other than contempt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took in a deep breath and exhaled before opening the cubicle door and washing her hands. All she needed to do was get through a few more hours and then she would be gone again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anyway, today wasn't about her or Henrik. It was about celebrating her friend's life and supporting Sacha. She would push all else aside and focus on the task in hand. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Henrik &amp; Roxanna meet for the first time since she walked out of his life two years ago.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The crowd in Albie’s was testament to Essie’s popularity, both as a colleague and friend. Henrik was sitting in a corner of the bar, his knees tight up to the table in front of him.  He was flanked on his left by Carole and Donna on his right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wasn’t the service beautiful,” Donna sighed mournfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was,” Carole agreed.  “I’ve always enjoyed that piece of music they played at the end,” Donna gave her a quizzical look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That one they used to play on the advert. You know the one with the fancy aeroplanes…. although that was probably before your time?” She mused,  reflecting on the age difference between the two women.  Donna shook her head, still none the wiser. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The piece of music is called </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Flower Duet</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it’s from the opera </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lakme</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Henrik injected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh is it?” Carole said smiling up at him, a sense of pride beaming from her that she had the privilege of being in his company.  “Trust you to know that,” she gushed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave her a gentle smile back, knowing all too well that she was in awe of him.  There was no need for it though; he didn’t take any pleasure in this adoration.  He might have experienced a more classical education compared to the two O’Levels Carole had achieved at Holby Secondary Modern, but when it came to the things that really mattered, such as kindness, understanding and emotional intelligence Carole was far more knowledgeable than he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a recording of the piece and a libretto at home. You can borrow it if you like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would be lovely, thanks,” she beamed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh here they are,” said Donna, announcing the arrival of Sacha, Dom and Fletch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An hour or so later, and with a few drinks under their belts, the atmosphere had moved from r</span>
  <span>espectful solemnness </span>
  <span>to an easy celebration that Essie would have been proud of.  Roxanna had not appeared though and, for a moment, Henrik wondered if she had been a figment of his imagination, triggered perhaps, by his unconscious thoughts.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been thinking a lot about relationships recently, particularly those of the romantic kind and </span>
  <em>
    <span>of course</span>
  </em>
  <span> Roxanna had played a significant role in that over the last thirty years. So yes, perhaps she had been on his mind, but to the extent where he was now hallucinating? He thought not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carole had been the main focus of his thoughts anyway.  Their friendship had been gathering pace recently and he was starting to question if it was more than just platonic.  It had been the swiftness of it all that had surprised him the most.  They had gone from mere acquaintances to regular companions within the space of a year.  It had started out with one innocent salsa class; the next minute he was seeking her advice on what to do with his newly acquired house guest his grandson Oskar.  Carole had been such a huge hit with the little boy that Henrik found himself inviting her along on a multitude of adventures; toy shops, soft play centres and zoo trips to mention a few.  If she made Oskar happy, then it made him happy.  He had become so accustomed to having Carole around, that when he returned from his four month break in Sweden it felt only natural to pick up where they had left off, even without Oskar.  Only now  trips were to theatres, restaurants and National Trust properties.  He’d even succumbed to allowing her to cook for him once a week before their salsa class. It just felt so easy with Carole that it didn’t feel like he was making a conscious choice, it had just happened.  Of course, he knew the rumour mill at the hospital was rife, but he couldn't care less.  Perhaps it was old age but for the first time in his life he felt comfortable;  comfortable in his own skin and comfortable with his choices.   That was, until around two hours ago when the woman he had loved since the moment he first set eyes on her at the tender age of 19 years old -and whom had never stopped loving - had seemingly walked back into his world and, for the past two hours he had been unable to think about anything else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the safety of his seat, his eye scanned the room for her, his blood pressure rising every time the door swung open in anticipation that it might be her. The group conversation going on around him was just a fog, his mind was elsewhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr Hanssen, it's your round,” Dom shouted at him across the table, a mischievous smile spreading across his face.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dominic!” Carole chastised; her son’s brazen cheek was causing a flush of pink to stain her cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henrik, now jolted back into the present  looked up at him, “oh right.  Yes of course,” he said, stumbling to his feet. “What does everyone want?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the bar Henrik had given his order and was waiting patiently whilst the barman went about his business. He caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the decorative mirror on the other side of the bar, the wisps of grey hair took him by surprise,  not to mention the flabbiness developing around his jowls.  He was looking more and more like his father each day.  Old age was taking hold of him, quicker than he could fight it off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps now </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> the time to start thinking about settling down and sharing his life with someone.  Old age was a curse, but old age spent alone was even worse.   Yes, perhaps Carole would make a good companion for an old man looking for……</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Henrik...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without looking, he knew it was her;  the soft lilt of her voice, the scent of her perfume filling his senses. He wasn’t quite ready to look at her just yet though; he lowered his eyes and pursed his lips, the least she could do was wait.  When he was ready he slowly turned his head in her direction.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Roxanna,” she was beautiful. She was always beautiful.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you?” she asked hesitantly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had been leaning against the bar but he stood up straight and raised himself to his full height.  He would not let his feelings get the better of him; his response was clipped, "I’m very well thank you.”  It was too much to hold her gaze and he found himself studying the detail on the beer taps in front of him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t aware you were back?,” Why would he be? She hadn't spoken to him for two years, he would be the last person she would inform. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I heard about Essie I wanted to come back to pay my respects…. And to support Sacha.  They have both been very good friends to me,”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course," Henrik acknowledged,  memories of Roxanna’s slow recovery from her brain injury clear in his mind. Indeed, Essie and Sacha had been very supportive during those dark days, to him as much as Roxanna. It had been Essie who had taken over from Henrik's bedside vigil, insisting he go home for rest and clean clothes. It had been Sacha's shoulder whom he'd leant on when Roxanna had taken a turn for the worst and required further surgery.  Yes, he could understand why she would want to come back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clearing his throat Henrik asked, "How long are you back for?,"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Until Friday…..I have to get back for work." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Work: as Director of Neurological Surgery at the Port of Spain General Hospital, Trinidad and Tobago.  Henrik had found out about her new role when a reference request had landed on his desk three weeks after she had walked out of his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Henrik, I was hoping we might talk before I left? I want to apologise for ….." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There's no need for any apologies," he said curtly, cutting her off again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, I ….," She was interrupted again, this time by the barman completing Henrik's order and requesting payment. She looked on as Henrik fumbled in his wallet.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can I get you a drink?" He asked as a last minute thought, his hands pausing over the card machine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No.. thank you, I'm fine." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a nod of the head he turned his attention back to the barman. Picking up the tray he turned to Roxanna again and said nonchalantly,  "well, enjoy the rest of your trip." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll try," she replied, but she was speaking into the void.  He had already walked away from her and was heading back to his table.  </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>****</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like to come in for supper?” Carole asked from the passenger seat of Henrik’s Volvo.  He had driven her home after the wake.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er...not tonight thank you Carole. It’s been a long day.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” she said, trying not to look too disappointed.  She had been unsure about asking him anyway;  he had seemed out of sorts all day which she had initially put down to grief but now she was wondering if she was the problem.  She knew she could come out with some silly things when she'd had a few glasses of wine but she had tried to be on her best behaviour today. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn't understand why Henrik wanted to spend so much time with her anyway? It was hardly her intellectual capacity that was enthralling him and she knew full well she was no oil painting.  Whatever it was, it was probably on the wane anyway. He'd never refused to come in for supper before. She'd bought those fancy tea bags he liked so much too; “Well goodnight then,” she said as she climbed out of the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good night,” he replied, his hands clutched to the steering wheel and his eyes staring straight ahead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she watched the car drive off into the distance, she knew exactly where those tea bags would end up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>****</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Has she gone back down?” Roxanna smiled as Sacha returned to his sitting room and plonked himself on the sofa next to her.  Isla, the child whom Essie had cared for was now in Sacha’s full time care whilst Social Services completed their assessments.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, she’s fast off now,” Sacha replied.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roxanna passed him a glass of wine.  “Bless her."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm,” Sacha sighed, “I think she’s missing Essie, the poor love.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roxanna reached over and gave Sacha’s hand an affectionate squeeze, “you’re doing a great job Sacha,” she smiled, “Isla’s obviously very settled with you. She’s such a joy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks Rox,” he said, relaxing back into the settee and taking a large gulp of his wine.  “You know, its so good of you to come all this way.  Essie would have been delighted to see you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roxanna sighed, “I’m just sorry I never made it back before she….well you know.  She was a really good friend to me, i wish I could’ve done more for her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rox, Essie understood.  Everyone’s got their own lives to lead and anyway, we all had such a good time when we came to visit you last year.   In fact, Essie said it was one of the happiest times in her life, so please don’t be too harsh on yourself.  You’re here now and that has been a great strength to me.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into him for a hug and she went with it and rested her head on his shoulders.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well thanks for letting me stay with you.  So much more comfortable than a hotel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's my pleasure,” he said, letting go of her.  “So anyway, how are you? We haven't had chance for a proper catch up yet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m good thanks.  I mean work’s full on and caring for David’s mother takes up a lot of my time but hey, one can’t complain." She let out a small laugh but there was a melancholy that was hard to ignore.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm...you must make time for yourself Rox,” he said concerned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do Sacha, don’t you worry about me,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled at her but was yet to be convinced.  “Essie was worried about you before she died,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What!” Roxanna frowned, turning to look at him, appalled at the thought of her friend wasting precious energy on worrying about her.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think she was concerned that you might be lonely in Trinidad and that perhaps you somehow regretted making the move?” He could see she was uncomfortable and he held up his hand, gesturing for him to hear him out. “You know what Essie was like, she cared for you. I think she was concerned that you made the decision to leave Holby very quickly, and in doing so you left a lot of people behind who cared for you.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roxanna let out a sigh of exasperation and curled her legs underneath her, grabbing a cushion to hug as if using it as a protective shield. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be mad, Rox,” Sacha said reaching out and resting his hand on her knee, “I'm sorry if I've upset you and if I’m wrong, then great,” he said, holding up his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She let out another sigh, “ I went to Trinidad for David’s parents, you know that! I could hardly leave them in the lurch could I? David had no siblings, there is no other family.  His father was dying and his mother needed help to care for him, I didn’t really have much choice in the matter Sacha,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sacha nodded his head in agreement, “I understand Rox. As long as you’re happy, that's all that matters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I am,” she insisted, taking a big gulp of her wine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay then,” he replied as he watched her over the rim of his glass, “let's talk about something different. Did you manage to speak with Henrik today?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Crikey Sacha! What is this? Twenty questions?” she scoffed, almost spluttering her wine out of her mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he exclaimed, “You choose what we talk about,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did in fact.” She replied more calmly now.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I spoke to Henrik.  Only briefly though,” she said trying not to sound too glum about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rox, I don’t want to pry but did something happen between you and Henrik before you left because, for a time, you two seemed to be inseparable?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did we?”  It was a rhetorical question because she knew the answer. They had been inseparable.  That was until she made the choice to break them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh Sacha,” she sighed, holding the cushion in front of her face now, hardly daring to look at him, part embarrassment, part distress. “It’s all so bloody complicated! I’ve acted terribly towards Henrik and now he can barely look at me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh Rox,” he said, trying to wrestle the cushion away from her face.  “I’m sure that’s not true.  Henrik has always thought the world of you.  Even more perhaps.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe once, but not anymore. I’ve really screwed up.” she said glumly.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a good listener…..” he suggested. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really want to know?” she said, grabbing the cushion from him and hugging it to her chest again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you want to tell me then yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. But pour me another glass of wine first,” she sighed.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Roxanna reveals how and why her friendship with Henrik has broken down and considers if there is any way it can be repaired.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Henrik and I had always been close. In fact, we were almost romantically involved at college, but we were both young and shy and neither of us had the confidence to make the first move.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then David came along; he was so bright and so vivacious, he just swept me off my feet and we were married within a year of meeting one another.  Henrik was of course, very gracious about David and I but I think neither of us ever forgot those early days and there was always a sense of ‘what if’ that lingered around our friendship.   </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then, after the accident; after everything that had gone on with Fredrik, with David and John, I think we both felt as if we were the only ones left, and the only way to survive was to cling to each for dear life. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When I woke from the accident Henrik was by my side holding my hand; he was there for me day and night.  We had our friends too- you and Essie amongst them- but with Henrik it was different.  We had this shared past and seemed to have an understanding of each other like no one else could.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When I was discharged from hospital he insisted I stay with him, just until I was well enough to live on my own again. I stayed in his spare room and it felt a bit like when we were at college; we were roomies and it was fun. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When I was well enough to go home we continued to see one another on a regular basis. I still had keys to his house and he'd cook dinner, we'd go out for walks, meet for coffee, you know the type of thing and it was….it was wonderful, we enjoyed each other’s company and it continued that way until the night before I left…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It’s me," Roxanna shouted as she let herself into Henrik's house. " I'm so sorry I'm late…," she continued as she removed her coat and hung it up on the peg next to Henrik's and removed her shoes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm in here," came Henrik's voice from the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roxanna grabbed the carrier bag containing the two bottles of red she had just purchased, and after a quick check of her appearance in the hall mirror, she made her way through to the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henrik was at the stove stirring a sauce and he glanced over his shoulder and gave her a soft, welcoming smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm so sorry I'm late," she repeated frustratedly, "the surgery went on much longer than I thought -there was a bleed -and </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span> there was a bloody queue at the supermarket!" She took the bottles out of the bag and rested them on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No matter. You're here now and dinner is almost ready." Henrik pulled a chair out for her at the kitchen table, "have a seat and I'll pour us some wine." He opened one of the bottles and poured the red liquid into two glasses already set out on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mmm," Roxanna said, breathing in the aroma of the wine before giving it a sip and swilling it around her mouth. "What are we eating?" She said, gulping down the wine and glancing over at the stove. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Pasta Arrabiata," </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh great, my favourite. I'm starving," she said, taking a piece of bread and dipping into some olive oil and devouring the lot in one mouthful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How many times have we had this conversation, Roxanna?” Henrik sighed, “You are not starving! It's simply your blood sugar levels dropping and sending…." He went on, but she shut him down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh do sush Henrik. You know what I mean! Anyway, how was your day?" She said smiling sweetly at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>After dinner we moved into the sitting room where Henrik challenged me to a game of chess.  He was keeping a tally you see; we’d been playing regularly ever since the accident.  Henrik said it was good for my recovery but really, it was him who enjoyed it the most.  The trouble was, Henrik didn't like losing and I was just about to make a killer move that would give me a three game lead….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t do that!” Henrik cried, almost lifting out of his seat as he watched Roxanna select her piece and move it towards his queen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roxanna grinned at him in delight, “oh yes I can, Henrik,” she teased as she plucked his queen from the board and waved it in his face triumphantly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henrik let out an exasperated breath and lent back in his seat.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, it’s your go,” she urged  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no point now is there,” Henrik sighed, “You’ve won!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh don’t be such a bad loser,” she said leaning over and taking his hand, “It’s only a game you know,” she was trying to be sympathetic but her tone was full of mirth.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Henrik sulked as he looked down at her fingers which were now stroking the back of his hand.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It just means we get to play again…..and you can make that amazing pasta again,” she suggested playfully.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are the only person who can beat me at chess, do you know that?”  he said glumly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roxanna grinned at him; , “I know….” she said as she felt Henrik link his fingers with hers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was at this point that he came out with it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you Roxanna,” he whispered as he studied their linked hands, “do you know that too?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took in a sharp intake of breath at his words and bit her lip, not daring to lift her eyes to look at him.  “I do Henrik. I do know,” she eventually uttered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I think we both recognised that a line had been crossed; and although it was a line that we had been teetering along for some time, it still came as a surprise to us both when said aloud.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry...I don’t know why I said that,” Henrik said as he pulled his hands away from hers. “It wasn’t planned, I should never have said anything.” He stood and took himself over to the fireplace where he gripped the mantle, as if to steady himself.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roxanna took a gulp of her drink and studied him for a few minutes before getting up and making her way over to him. “Henrik?” she said as she rested her hand on his shoulder, “look at me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he turned to face her she took hold of both of his hands and looked up into his eyes before reaching up onto her tip toes and pressing a gentle kiss to his unexpecting lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Roxanna……" he gasped.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She let out an embarrassed laugh, and he engulfed her in his arms, pulling her tight to his chest and pressing a kiss to the top of head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What now….?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Take me to bed Henrik," she said as she luxuriated in the warmth of his arms.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?" Came the breathy reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I said, take me to bed and make love to me," she looked up at him and said it slowly for emphasis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled back from her a little but still holding her in his arms, "shouldn't we talk about this first?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave him a sympathetic smile, "Henrik, we've been talking for 30 years....let’s not waste anymore time." She pulled him towards the door, "come…" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If you're sure…?" He hesitated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am Henrik. I'm sure." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, I’m sure you can guess what happened next…..it was sublime. I felt as I'd not felt for a long time; it was as if that was the place I had meant to be all of my life.  As if every step of our relationship, every conversation, every platonic embrace had been building up to that night. We lost ourselves in one another, explored areas and feelings we had only ever dreamed of.  To say that we were a perfect match would be an understatement...and the reserved and retiring Henrik we think we all know….well, he was a revelation!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Okay, okay,  I know it all sounds very cheesy and you probably didn't need to hear all that detail, but it really was perfect. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The next morning I woke to the sound of a coffee cup being placed on the best side cabinet next to me.  When I opened my eyes I instantly remembered where I was, everything just oozed Henrik; the crisp clean sheets, the dark mahogany antique sleigh bed,  the starchiness of the blue shirt he had given me to sleep in and the fragrance of cedarwood that permeates everything that is Henrik Hanssen. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good morning,"</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When I pulled myself up to a sitting position there he was; fully dressed and sat in a chair not far from the bed drinking coffee. I rubbed my eyes and ran my fingers through my untamed hair- honestly, I must have looked shocking - but he just smiled at me and love shone from his eyes.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"What time is it?" Roxanna asked, her voice still heavy with sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It’s almost nine," </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nine! I've slept in. I’m so sorry,  I should go," she said pulling the duvet back and revealing her long, bare legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henrik stepped forward and replaced the duvet. "Relax," he said as he handed her the coffee cup, "drink your coffee, there's no rush." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled at him gently and did as she was told, taking a sip of the steaming liquid in the cup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mmm," she murmured, savouring the rich aromas. Henrik always did buy good coffee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How long have you been awake?" She asked, watching him drink from his own cup and noting his freshly shaven face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A while,” he replied. "I always wake early." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes, I remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you sleep well?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did,” she exclaimed as a smile split her lips.  “It’s a very comfy bed,” she said, as she leant  back on the pillows and savoured the moment.  </span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So, you're wondering why, and how, such a perfect outcome could go so wrong? Well, it wasn't so much an event that happened, but a ghost that intervened and put a stop to it all.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>After breakfast I decided it was time to go home….Henrik had work to do and I had chores that needed taking care of...</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So…..?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So….?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stood in Henrik's hallway, their fingers linked with each other's. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I should go," Roxanna murmured. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes," Henrik uttered reluctantly. "Well, thank you...for last night," his cheeks blushed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roxanna lowered her eyes and gave him a bashful smile, "thank you for cooking dinner," </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My pleasure."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well...I should just…" she said gesturing to the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Roxanna…." He bent down and gave her a long lingering kiss which was reciprocated fully but after a moment she pulled away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Goodbye Henrik," she said as she scrambled for the front door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Goodbye Roxanna." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The doubts were creeping in before I had even closed the car door.  As I drove out of the driveway the only thing I could focus on was the wedding ring on my left hand.  It was flashing up at me from the steering wheel looking brighter and shinier than it had on the day that David had given it to me.  David had been dead for nearly two years but I still couldn’t bring myself to remove the ring.  When I licked my lips I could taste Henrik’s lingering kiss upon them but my heart was pounding in my chest, not from the kiss but from guilt.  Guilt was welling up from the pit of my stomach to my throat.   I rolled the window down and gasped for air as I tried to concentrate on the roads in spite of the tears welling up in my eyes.    </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When I arrived home -the home I had bought and shared with my husband -the first thing I saw was David’s face smiling back at me from the hallway table.  A photograph of course, but nevertheless, the sight of his noble face unleashed the tears down my cheeks and blurred my vision as I hung my coat up next to David’s coats, grief having prevented me from giving them away.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Although I had showered at Henrik’s I could still smell him on my skin, in my hair, on my clothes and in an instant I was leaping up the stairs to the bedroom I had shared with David, stripping off my clothes and throwing them in the wash basket.  I must have spent almost an hour in the shower, literally washing all traces of Henrik from my body;  every patch of skin he had caressed, every curve he had kissed was washed free of him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>By this time I felt both emotionally and physically exhausted.  I dragged myself from the shower and fumbled in David’s wardrobe for one of his old jumpers and pulled it over my head.  I climbed into the bed that David and I had bought together over twenty years ago, pulled the duvet over my head and cried for my dead husband. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I had been married to David for twenty-eight years and three months when he died.  Not once in all those years had I betrayed our marriage vows. That’s not to say I hadn’t thought about it, of course I had.  But, there is a huge difference between thinking and actually doing and the thought that I had betrayed David was too much to bear.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I was woken some time later by the telephone.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hello?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Roxanna, it's Henrik."  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh," she sighed as she held the receiver away from her ear, not wanting to hear his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I found your wrist watch in the en-suite. I'll bring it to you, I'm going out anyway…." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She clutched the phone to her chest, and glanced at her wrist. The watch, a Christmas present from David; she remembered removing it and placing it on the side of the bath before getting into the shower. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No! Don't do that Henrik." She couldn't bear to look at him and she didn't want him in David's home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not a problem," he went on, "I thought we might take a walk, we could get coffee?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No! No I can't…..I'm busy, I'm meeting a friend."  She wasn't meeting anyone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, right," she could hear the disappointment in his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll get the watch from you at work sometime. It's not urgent." She said curtly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If you're sure?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes I am," she snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay, well bye then." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Bye." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That was the last time I spoke to Henrik...until today. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Later that day I received another call. Either by sheer coincidence or by some twisted turn of fate, it was David's elderly mother Doreen. She was calling from Trinidad to tell me that David's father James was dying and that she wanted me to visit. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He is dying. There is no one else.  You must come. Do this for my son, if not for yourself." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My relationship with David's parents has always been ....complicated. They didn't approve of our match from the start. I just didn't live up to their expectations of what a wife should be; I wouldn't give up my work and become a housewife and I hadn't given David children or them grandchildren.  Doreen was a formidable woman but she was also proud; it would have taken a lot for her to call me.  I had to go. I had no choice. David was an only child, so was I and both my parents were dead; Doreen and James were the only family I had. I booked a flight to Trinidad for the very next day and called in sick to work. I didn't tell Henrik I was going. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When I arrived in Trinidad it was apparent the situation was much worse than I had first anticipated.  James was in the last few weeks of his life but he was refusing palliative care.   Doreen was frail and partially sighted, she had been too proud to ask for any help and was struggling to care for herself, let alone James and the house…..well it had fallen into a state of disrepair. I realised then how much I had neglected them and how much they needed me.  I owed it to them and I owed it to David and there was no place Henrik. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>****</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh Rox," Sacha sighed. "Henrik would have understood if you had explained the situation." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe….but I just couldn't face him and the longer I left it, the harder it became.  He tried to contact me over and over again by any means possible but I just ignored him.  I hate myself for what I've done." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps it's worth speaking to him?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I tried Sacha, but he didn't want to know. I just have to face up to the fact that our friendship has been unequivocally damaged and that there is no coming back from it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Rox…," Sacha said as he pulled her into an embrace.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you know what the one thing is, that I regret about that night?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, what is it…?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's that I never told Henrik that I loved him." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What about now? Do you still love him?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh Sacha," she sobbed, "I do love him. I love Henrik with all my heart." </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Henrik is shocked to learn something new about Roxanna and Roxanna is disappointed when she learns something new about Henrik!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Two years earlier: </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Police, can I help you?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Er...yes.  I...I’d like to report a person missing.  It’s a colleague….Roxanna Macmillan, Miss Roxanna Macmillan.  She’s been missing for seven days, I've already spoken to one of your officers about it. She called in sick to work seven days ago but no one has been able to contact her since.  She’s not at home and I don’t know what else to do…..” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay, sir.  Let me take some details from you………..” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Twenty-four hours later: </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Is that Mr Hanssen?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes, it is.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“This is PC Green from Holby Police Station.  Just to inform you that we’ve located Miss Macmillan.  She’s asked us to advise you sir that she’s fit and well but she doesn’t want to be contacted.  She said she will contact you in her own time. Now, if there’s nothing else sir?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, thank you. That’s all.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Present Day: </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, I've done x-rays, I’ve done an MRI scan and I'm still not a hundred percent sure about this diagnosis.  He’s projectile vomited three times in the past hour as well,” Dominic Copeland said as he screwed up his face and shuddered at the memory of having to change out of his vomit covered scrubs only minutes before . He was leaning against the nurses station on Keller Ward, Henrik was sitting behind the desk staring at the computer.  “Will you examine him for me Mr Hanssen, just have a look and see what you think?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There came no response.  Henrik’s eyes were glued to the screen in front of him, but his thoughts were elsewhere.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr Hanssen?”  Dom shouted frustratedly over the counter into Henrik’s face.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” demanded Henrik, a scowl forming across his face, outraged by the younger man’s monstrous behaviour.    </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you to take a look at my patient!” Dom replied, frustrated at the lack of attention Henrik was paying him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, now?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you have a moment then yes. Please!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henrik checked his watch, “I er...I was just about to take my break.  Can it wait?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dom shrugged his shoulders in despair, “Well, if it has to, then I suppose it can wait a bit longer!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, I’ll examine her when I come back” Henrik said as he stood up and started collecting his belongings together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a male,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is?” said Henrik looking confused.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The patient Mr Hanssen,” said Dom, throwing his arms up in the air.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Now, what time does your mother take her break Mr Copeland, do you know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Dom replied in disbelief at the question, “You mean my birth mother Ange or the woman who has pretended to be my mother for the last thirty years?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be facetious Mr Copeland,” Henrik said in annoyance at Dom’s lack of his respect for the woman who raised him, “you know who I mean, Carole….Mrs Copeland?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dom rolled his eyes, “I haven’t got the faintest idea what time her break is,” he said, curling his lip at the thought of Mr Hanssen and Carole canoodling over a coffee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never mind,” said Henrik as he waltzed down the ward and out of the door.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>****</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a latte wasn’t it?” asked Henrik as he placed two coffee cups down on the table where Carole was sitting in a corner of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pulses. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, thank you,” she said smiling at him and wrapping her fingers around the cardboard cup. “What a lovely surprise,” she said. “I didn’t think I’d get a break today, it’s been so busy.  I think it’s only because you were there that Sandra let me go.”  Carole worked as a receptionist on the main reception desk in the hospital.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should insist on taking your breaks,” Henrik said as he sipped his own black coffee, “you are entitled to them after all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose, but you know what it’s like when it's busy.  I don’t like to let anyone down.  So, was there something you wanted to talk about?”  It was very unusual for Henrik to seek her out in the middle of a working day, he was usually far too busy for socialising.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henrik pursed his lips together, appearing apprehensive. “I...err…,” he stuttered, “I wanted to ask you to dinner, at my house, tonight….that’s if you’re free of course?” He added, he didn’t want to sound too desperate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right,” she smiled coyly at him, somewhat taken aback at his suggestion.  She’d never been inside his home before,  they’d always met in public, although he had been to her home many times.  It didn’t bother her, she had learnt that Henrik was a very private person and that his home was a bastion of that.  So, to get an invitation was very unexpected. “Well, I’ve got nothing on tonight, so I’d love to, thank you,” she gushed.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, I’m pleased,” Henrik replied, a little side smile escaping from his mouth.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reached across the table and rested her hand on the top of his, "you seem to have perked up after yesterday. I'm glad, I was worried about you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Pardon?" He asked, a confused look on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"At the funeral yesterday, you seemed a bit out of sorts but I know you and Essie were close so it was bound to be a difficult day for you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Right," he nodded. It perturbed him that he had appeared anything other than his usual staid persona.   But before he could give it any further thought his attention was caught by the sight of two women striding along the corridor towards the exit and he swiftly pulled his hand out from beneath Carole's. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry,” he said, as he raised himself  to his feet, "I've just seen someone whom I really need to speak to...I need to go," </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course…" Carole replied, somewhat confused.  He started to walk away from the table but she called after him, "Henrik, what time should I come tonight?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh right," he said, turning to her looking rather agitated "shall we say seven?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, all right. I'll see you then," </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry I must go," he called as he disappeared up the corridor and towards the lifts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>****</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He managed to reach the lift just before the doors were fully closing and as he stepped into the small gap the doors released to their full width, revealing the occupant he was so keen to speak to; Neurosurgeon Max McGerry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah Ms McGerry. I'm glad I caught up with you," Henrik said nonchalantly hoping to purvey an air of casualness about their meeting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh?" She asked, raising a stern eyebrow. She wasn't a fan of Henrik's and she couldn't understand for the life of her why her colleagues seemed to revere him so much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"About those reports I've been waiting for…." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You mean those reports I emailed to you yesterday?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh did you? I must have missed that one.” he replied innocently, “Well thank you, I'll take a look when I get back to my desk." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was an awkward silence now as they both listened to the whirring of the lift mechanics. Henrik watched the floors pass by and he knew his time was running out to question her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Was that Miss Macmillan I just saw you with downstairs?" He asked casually. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes it was," came the blunt reply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh. A professional visit was it?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned her head to glare at him, looking him up and down and trying to work out his motives, for he never usually paid her this much attention.  “Why? What’s your involvement with Miss Macmillan?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing….I just….err,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was enjoying watching him squirm.  She knew from the hospital grapevine that they had ‘history.’   "If you must know, we were discussing her research. She wanted my opinion on whether Holby would consider having trial patients." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henrik's brow furrowed in thought. So Roxanna had resumed her research and she wanted to conduct it here in Holby. That would involve her being in the city. Working in the hospital again. "That's a Board decision,” he snapped,  “she would need to present the proposal to the Board and myself as CEO, not to you.  Surely Rox...Miss Macmillan knows that?" He was overreacting but the thought of Roxanna being in Holby for longer than a few days had thrown him into a state of anxiety. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max rolled her eyes; she had half expected this kind of response; since usurping her from the role of CEO she felt as if Henrik had gone out of his way to exert his authority over her and this was a prime example of it. "Of course she does. She just wanted my opinion." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, and what is your opinion then? Is she ready to conduct trials?"  There was a tone of superiority in his voice.  Max was bearing the brunt of his anxieties; he knew it was unfair but  couldn’t help it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She's very close. It's an impressive piece of work I have to concede." Coming from Max, this was a compliment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doors opened and Max stepped out of the lift, and was disturbed to see that Henrik proceeded to follow her even though his office was not on this floor. "Yes?" she questioned his pursuing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't know that you knew Miss Macmillan?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't. We met for the first time today. Guy introduced us." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, Henrik mused. Henrik had been the one who had called Guy Self out of desperation after John Gaskell had left Roxanna for dead.  Henrik was no fan of Guy but, he had saved  Roxanna's life and for that, he would always be grateful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is there anything else Mr Hanssen?" Max said as she stopped abruptly outside her office door, keen to end to bring an end to their conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, that's all " he said as Max disappeared into the office and closed the door in Henrik's face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He found the nearest available men's toilet and dived into a cubicle, leaning up against  the door for support.  His chest was tight and he loosened his tie fearing he was heading for a cardiac arrest.  The thought of Roxanna working in the same hospital, living in the same city as him whilst he would have to watch her from afar sent him into turmoil. He knew it was ridiculous for a grown man to be acting in this way but he couldn't help it. After putting his heart and soul into loving Roxanna Macmillan, he had been broken when she had left with no explanation. There was no way he could live through it all again, no way. Now was absolutely the right time to move on. Onwards and upwards, there was no other way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi! How did you get on?” It was Sacha, he was sitting at the dining room table spooning a jar of baby food into Isla who was sitting attentively in the highchair, her little face stained orange from the mashed up food that Sacha had failed to direct into her mouth.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was okay,” Roxanna sighed as she slumped down onto the sofa.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just okay?” said Sacha, raising an eyebrow.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max is a character isn’t she,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did warn you,” Sacha smirked, “she’s a tough nut to crack but I think her heart is in the right place, you’ve just got to find it first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm. To be fair, she was very positive about it all.  She said she would be interested in getting involved in the trial, but of course it has to go through the board….and Henrik.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Sacha agreed. “Talking of Henrik…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh don’t!” Roxanna protested," holding up her hand to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just hear me out,” he persisted.  “I was thinking I could invite Henrik for supper tonight, just something informal and it would give you two the chance to talk….I’d strategically nip out to check on Isla to give you some privacy, of course.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roxanna shook her head, “Absolutely not,” she said, “but thank you for thinking about it Sacha,” she gave him a grateful but sad smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” He urged, “it would just be three friends sharing a meal, no pressure." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There's no point, it appears that Henrik has moved on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? I don’t think Henrik…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve just seen him Sacha! He has well and truly moved on.  He was holding hands with Carole Copeland in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pulses</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What!” Sacha guffawed. “Dominic’s mother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew they were friends but I’m not sure there’s anything more to it than that? She </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> help him out a lot when Oskar was staying with him, babysitting and the rest.   Are you sure you’re interpreting this right, it could just have been something very innocent...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust me,  I saw them with my very own eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But….." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She held up her hand, “Look Sacha, I just have to accept that I had my chance with Henrik and I ruined it.  Can we please just change the subject,” she sighed one again. She got up and bent down next to the highchair so she was eye level with the child, “Now, why don’t you tell me all I need to know about looking after this little one this afternoon?" She took hold of one of Isla’s sticky hands and gave it a gentle shake , and smiled broadly at the child, “ now, that’s a lot more fun than talking about boring old Henrik Hanssen isn’t it Isla?”  

The child let out a delighted giggle.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>****</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come," came Henrik’s dulcet tones in response to a knock at his office door.  “Ah Sacha! Why are you at work? I said you could have as much time off as you need?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did Henrik,” Sacha said as he made his way across the expanse of the office and stopped just in front of the desk. “ I had a follow up appointment with a patient that I didn’t want to miss so I came in for that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have a seat,” Henrik gestured to a chair in front of his desk and Sacha took up the offer. “Sacha, you must allow yourself time to grieve before rushing back to work. Don’t make the same mistake as I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know Henrik, I will take as much time as I need, thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The service yesterday was a very fitting tribute to Essie. It was beautiful Sacha.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you Henrik, that means a lot,” both men smiled understandingly at one another before Sacha said, “ I actually popped by to see if you’d like to come for supper tonight? Roxanna is staying with me and I thought it would be a nice opportunity to catch up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henrik froze in his seat but managed to compose himself enough to reply, “I already have dinner plans for tonight, sadly.”   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.  Anyone special?” Sacha asked.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mrs Copeland, actually,” Henrik replied, shuffling some papers on his desk and deliberately avoiding eye contact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, well how about Thursday night? Roxanna doesn’t fly until Friday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No sorry, I can’t. I have my salsa class with Mrs Copeland and I can’t let her down, I’m her partner,” the double meaning of the word hung in the air and Henrik quickly added, “I’m her dance partner.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes, salsa, I remember.  Going well is it? The lessons I mean,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, perhaps Roxanna was right about Carole after all, Sacha mused to himself.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henrik had picked up his pen and was starting to thumb through his paperwork and  Sacha took it as his queue to leave. “Well, I should get home, I’ve left Roxanna holding the baby, literally,” he said laughing at his own joke.  Henrik gave him a tight lipped smile back.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as Sacha opened the door to leave Henrik asked,  “How is Roxanna?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sacha turned to look at his friend, “she’s okay Henrik, but I think she could be better….  I know she misses your friendship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henrik cleared his throat; “Yes, well….” he  uttered quietly and turned his attention back to his papers, “Sorry Sacha but I really must get on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand Henrik. Goodbye then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodbye Sacha.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the door had closed Henrik threw his pen down on the desk and let out a sigh of despair.  Enough was enough, he told himself and he picked up his mobile and scrolled through it.  When he found what he was looking for he pressed the call button and waited for the caller to answer.   </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hello Holby Florists, can I help?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes, I like to send some flowers.  A large bouquet please.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Henrik and Carole go on their first date and learn a little more about one another.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Carole Copeland checked her appearance in the compact mirror one last time as the taxi pulled up outside Henrik’s home.  Climbing out of the vehicle she looked up, with some foreboding, at the three storey Georgian house in front of her, so different to her own little terrace house at the other end of town.  There was no doubt, she and Henrik were from different worlds; his a world of money, education and privilege, hers of back streets and bargain basement shops.  How on earth had she found herself here she mused to herself as she straightened out her dress and rang the doorbell.  She was nervous, jittery even; was this a date? The uncertainty and spontaneity of the invitation, let alone the flowers, had both excited and unnerved her.  It had been a long time since she had been on date, she just hoped she didn’t make a fool of herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost instantly the door was opened to reveal the occupant of the house and Carole noted that he was looking as smart and as dashing as ever.   "Good evening," he said from his position on the threshold, a small smile twitching at the edge of his mouth. "Come in…" he beckoned, as he stood to one side to let her enter. When the door was closed he asked, "can I take your coat?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes," Carole replied, blushing slightly as she felt Henrik's fingers brush against her shoulders as he helped her out of the garment. "Thank you so much for the flowers, they are absolutely beautiful." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're very welcome. Just a little something to show my appreciation for the kindness you've shown Oskar and I this past year." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh you don't need to thank me, but thank you anyway," she giggled. "He's such a lovely boy."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He is indeed," Henrik replied proudly as he led the way through to the kitchen.  As she followed him she looked up in awe at the sweeping Georgian staircase, its curved banister soaring majestically to the top of the house,   "You've got a lovely home Henrik, it's very grand."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's rather too big for one person but I like the high ceilings and it's convenient for the hospital. Now can I get you a drink?" He asked as he opened the refrigerator and produced a perfectly chilled bottle of wine, "It's chicken for dinner so I thought white, I hope that's alright?" It’s an oaked chardonnay so it should go well with the dish." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ooh...sounds lovely, thank you," she grinned, getting the feeling that it was going to be a really lovely evening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That was delicious!" They were finishing off their meal and Carole was scraping every last bit of chocolate mousse from the ramekin," You are a good cook Henrik, where did you learn?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, I just picked up a few tips here and there," he replied modestly. "It's nice to have someone to cook for actually, I usually just rustle up something quick and easy.  Would you like to go through to the sitting room? I'll be through in a moment," he said, standing up and starting to clear the dishes from the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll help," she insisted, standing and collecting the remaining dishes, " I quite enjoy washing up." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's perfectly all right, they will go in the dishwasher," he said, taking the dishes from her and placing them on the counter.  "Go and sit down," he insisted as he topped up her wine glass, "take your drink through. I'll open another bottle." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he joined her in the sitting room a few moments later she was studying a carved chess piece which she had plucked from an impressive looking set displayed on a side table. "These are cute," she said glancing over at Henrik who had seated himself on the sofa. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mmm," he agreed. The set had been an unexpected Christmas present from Roxanna just a few months before she had left Holby. The gift tag had read </span>
  <em>
    <span>'a gift we can enjoy together’.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>He had taken it as an unspoken sign that their friendship was moving into new territory and it had given him hope and joy.   Just as promised, the game had been something they had enjoyed together, right up until the night before she had left.    He knew he should have gotten rid of the set, along with the rest of Roxanna’s belongings he had found around the house, items that had crept in over time; a spare change of clothes hanging in the closet in the spare room, a toothbrush and a pot of face cream in the bathroom cupboard. Even the soya milk he had bought specifically for her, every last drop of it had gone down the sink in an act of defiance. The chess set should have gone too but he had found himself unable to part with it because doing so would be an absolute acknowledgement that he would never enjoy anything with Roxanna ever again and therefore it had remained in his sitting room as a constant reminder of what could have been.  "Do you play?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Me? Oh no," she recoiled, placing the queen back in her space as if it had suddenly become as hot as coals. "It's quite complicated isn't it?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not really. I could teach you if you like?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No...Dominic tried to teach me when he was a teenager but I kept forgetting which piece was which and where they could be moved to. You'd only be wasting your time." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't know about that. It could be quite fun." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave an apologetic shake of her head, "sorry Henrik but it's not my idea of fun." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fair enough," he conceded as she joined him on the sofa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So...what is your idea of fun?" he asked as he turned his body towards her, relieved that she had turned down his offer of game. "I know you like dancing but what else interests you?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ooh...I don't know," she mused, deep in thought as she sipped at her wine. "I'm not like you...I don't read books or listen to music or anything like that." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let out a chuckle, amused at her words, and she laughed with him, knowing that she sounded like a philistine.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well you must enjoy something? What do you do on an evening to entertain yourself?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well I usually just watch telly…." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay...anything in particular? Drama, documentary…?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nothing you would like. I usually just watch the soaps," she admitted shyly, expecting him to scoff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Right, well I’ve heard there are some very good ones," he replied gently, sensing her self-consciousness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"oh, wait a minute," she said, getting more animated now, "I do enjoy a game of bingo every now and then. You'll have to come one night, you'd enjoy it!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You think?" He said quizzically, doubting very much that he would.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes!" She insisted, noting his doubtful expression "there's plenty of men that go. You wouldn't just be sitting with a load of old women. No, some of the men are very serious about it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well...I'll bear it mind," he smirked to himself,  slightly amused by the idea of himself in a bingo hall, his giant dibber pen posed at the ready. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What about you? What do you do on an evening?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You mean apart from working, reading and listening to music?" He joked. "Well… not much.  Apart from our Thursday evenings my life is pretty dull.  Of course, when Oskar was here things were different, but in general it's usually a quick supper and bed." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you get lonely?" She knew it was a delicate question to ask but she felt their friendship was developing sufficiently enough to ask such things of each other, and, as he seemed so keen on getting to know each other, she went for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seemed to freeze at the question, dipping his chin and pursing his lips to consider his response but noting his uneasiness she went on. "I understand what it feels like to be lonely, and there's no shame in admitting it…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She paused to let him speak but he remained tight lipped so she went on.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"When I first left Barry I was incredibly lonely and lost. Don't get me wrong...it was the right thing to do;  Barry was such a brute I couldn't bear to be around him a moment longer…. well you  know what he was like, you've seen him….but I never thought for one minute I'd feel lonely without him. I suppose you just get used to someone being there and when they've gone... well there's just an emptiness you never even noticed before." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew that feeling all too well. He could lie to himself and say he was used to people leaving him but the truth was you never got used to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave her an empathetic smile. “You deserve much better than Barry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you Henrik, that's kind of you to say,” she blushed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have a day off on Friday, I don't suppose you're free?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Friday?...No, I don't have any plans. Why?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I wondered if you'd like to join me for a walk. There's a nature reserve I've been meaning to visit for a while. We could take a picnic?""</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ooh that sounds lovely. Yes I'd love too." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>****</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, thank you for a lovely evening." They were in the hallway and Henrik was helping her into her coat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're very welcome. Thank you for coming." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So I'll see you tomorrow for salsa?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes. I'll pick you up at the usual time." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll be ready," she replied, knowing how fastidious he was about time keeping. “Well goodbye then,” she said, giving him one last grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodbye Carole,” he smiled back affectionately as he watched her disappear out of the door and into the waiting taxi, content that he had delivered a successful evening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the taxi had disappeared out of sight he closed the door and returned to the kitchen to add the last few items to the dishwasher.  Remembering their wine glasses he returned to the sitting room to retrieve them but his eyes fell on the chess set in the corner of the room.  He wandered over and picked up the white queen and held it in his hand, his thumb rubbing over the grooves of the carving.  The queen, the most powerful and strongest piece on the board, able to move in any direction she chooses to.  He had been ridiculously sentimental to keep the set and he internally chastised himself for doing so. Dropping the piece down, he spun on his heels and strode out of the room, returning moments later with a carrier bag. In one fell swoop he cleared the board of its inhabitants, each piece falling from the board into the bag like lemmings jumping from a cliff.  Next, he picked up the wooden board and squeezed it into the bag, striding out into the hallway and dumping it by the front door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The following morning on his way to work he left the bag in the doorway of a charity shop and by lunchtime it had taken pride of place in the shop window, waiting expectantly for someone else to come along and enjoy it.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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